Tears of a Brave Country
by MrsJoey Wheeler
Summary: They were hit. Smoke rose into the sky. He wanted to help, but he couldn't get there in time. A short story about Alfred on the day of September 11th, 2001. For the people that risked their lives that day to save others.


Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.

Author's Note: (9/10/11): So today is the day before the 10th Anniversary of September 11th, and I was working on a different story when I realized something: how would Alfred have felt when the events 10 years ago had transpired? What if he had lived close enough to the city limits to actually watch the towers fall? What if he had felt his share of the impact?

I came up with this. Its short, but it puts across Alfred's feelings on that day pretty well.

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><p><span>Tears of a Brave Country<span>

He stood there; he stood tall. He looked across the area in front of him. This wasn't right. This wasn't supposed to have happened.

Rubble; that's all he saw. People running around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to find survivors; trying to save survivors.

He was in shock. This wasn't happening…this couldn't possibly be happening.

That moment…that moment that same morning…it still haunted his thoughts.

Yeah…he remembered where he was when he heard. He had been sitting on his couch eating a cheeseburger and watching Independence Day. Right when the aliens had started going after the White House, his housekeeper had barged into his living room.

They're hit. An accident; he had yelled. He had been confused.

What's hit? He had asked.

The World Trade Center! Turn on the news! Alfred had quickly fumbled for the remote and changed the channel to the news.

Smoke; smoke was rising out of the North Tower. Terror gripped Alfred.

He quickly asked his housekeeper questions as he pulled on his shoes. What happened? Why? Are there people on their way to help?

Before he could even get any answers, the news reporter had started yelling.

The South Tower! The South Tower! It's hit!

"This is no accident," Alfred had whispered as he was putting on his favorite jacket. He dashed out of his house and headed straight for his garage. Quickly, he had mounted his bike on the back rack of the car and jumped in.

He drove and he drove. Making it to the edge of New York City, he parked his car and took his bike off the back rack. He started pedaling, fast. He had seen the smoke from the towers rising into the sky. Panic had set into his chest now.

As he had begun moving further and further into the city, he had heard people yelling.

Run! Run now!

What happened? How can this be!

Its terrorists! That's no accident!

Oh God…

Oh God was right. Alfred got within five blocks of the towers when he had heard the crack. The ground had begun to shake and the South Tower trembled. Soon, the tower started its straight decent to the ground.

Screaming…so much screaming; but it was white noise compared to the sound of the tower going down. Smoke had filled the streets and quickly. People ran; people screamed; people fell.

Alfred had taken cover in a doorway to stay safe as the smoke came down the street he was on. When the smoke had cleared, he had stood up to look at the towers.

The smoke that had lingered burned his eyes. But they soon popped wide open.

The South Tower was gone, but the North one still stood. Smoke rose from the top of the building.

Alfred ran. He had run towards the still solid tower, desperate for answers; desperate to see; desperate to help.

Too much time had passed since he had started it second attempt to the site. No matter how fast he had run, he still wouldn't have made it.

The North Tower began to crumble. His eyes had bugged out of his head just then. He had watched each floor fall into the one below it and look like a locomotive on its way down.

No…he thought…no…this can't be happening…how did this happen…?

He had taken cover again. Hearing the roar of the collapse and smoke as white noise in his ears made him terrified.

He didn't know how long he had stayed there, pulled into the fetal position in the alley between two buildings. He couldn't remember now how many unconscious tears had run down his cheeks.

Now he stood at Ground Zero. It was 7:15pm. He was dirty, covered in soot. He didn't care. He looked around. Dead bodies lay on the ground; it was horrifying. He couldn't believe that this had happened in his country.

Alfred bowed his head and shed more tears. Silently, he mourned; the little water drops making lines on his face. He had been here all day, trying to help people that had been hurt from the power of the smoke that had filled the streets. He had yet given himself time to mourn.

When he felt he had had enough time to cry, he lifted his head and wiped the tears from his face with his filthy hands. He bowed in courtesy to the rubble and turned on his heal.

I must find out who did this…he thought…they have hurt my people…for the last time!

He pulled his coat closer around him, the American flag stretched across the back of it as he took the first step away from the site.

I will find who did this…THIS MEANS WAR.

As he made his way from the site, he passed firefighters and police officers; EMTs and family of the fallen. He made a promise right there: to make his country feel safe again. To make sure it could stay the way he had strived to make it:

The land of the free and the home of the brave.

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><p>To all those directly effected by the events on 911/01, I send you my prayers.

9/11/01-9/11/11 ~ 3 Never Forget


End file.
